


Closing the Gap

by TheLightFury



Series: Bullet Point Fics [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men Crying, Nightmares, Not Actual Rejection, Suspected Rejection, Touch-Starved Draco Malfoy, Touch-Starved Harry Potter, omg they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLightFury/pseuds/TheLightFury
Summary: What happens when two lonely, hurt, touch starved ex-enemies are roomed together?A bullet point fic.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Bullet Point Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982626
Comments: 15
Kudos: 212





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again to OTPshipper98 for the idea for bullet point fics and title! <3

  * Hermione wasn’t the only one out of The Golden Trio to read, Harry did too, reading his textbooks at the Dursley’s to escape. I think he would have also read anything he could have got his hands on in his cupboard, Matilda style. So
  * In Eighth year, Harry’s roomed with Draco. Harry can’t be arsed to fight with him anymore. Draco can’t either.
  * Harry’s MH is awful after the trauma of the war, and he finds the only thing he can do a lot of the time was lay on his bed and read
  * Thanks to the need to improve Muggle relations, Muggle Literature has found its way into the castle (anything from Disney stories to Raul Dahl, to great classics like Pride and Prejudice)
  * One of these books is something Harry used to read to escape, and immediately, he picks it up again, collapsing onto his bed, intent on escaping in his thankfully empty room, instead of going to lessons.
  * When Draco comes back from lessons utterly exhausted, he finds Harry with his back to him, reading silently, and Draco’s so surprised he just draws closer again, reading over Harry’s shoulder, trying to figure out what the book is
  * Harry turns slightly to look at him, half-expecting a fight though he can’t be bothered to give him one, and finds Draco startling at being caught, flushing slightly, and dropping his gaze whilst making to walk away
  * And maybe because although it’s comforting in some ways, reading reminds him of being alone in the cupboard. Or maybe because last year, Harry always had Hermione hugging him and Ron clapping him on the back, reassuring him he was loved and alive. Or even, maybe because sharing a room with Draco has made Harry think they might just be very similar, for some unfathomable reason, Harry asks if Draco wants to read with him
  * And somehow, after a confused, wary, hopeful look, Draco nods, settling gingerly on Harry’s bed behind him, sitting up against the headboard so he can see
  * Heat prickles on their skin. Neither of them dare to breathe. The very air between them seems to vibrate. 
  * They both ignore it.
  * After many unsuccessful attempts to focus on the book (something was suddenly making his heart perform acrobatics. Something very odd indeed), Draco finally gets sucked in, asking questions.
  * Each time he asks something, he leans closer, pointing over Harry’s shoulder to make it easier for him to understand what bit he’s on about (not because he’s one of the most touchy-feely people ever and he’s starved of all human contact at the moment at all)
  * And quietly, Harry answers, swallowing each time as his heart skips a beat from the warm, soft brushes of Draco’s skin against his
  * Seconds turn into minutes, and slowly, as pages turn, they both shift. Closing the gap. 
  * Draco shimmies down the bed. Rolls onto his side. Props his head up on his elbow. 
  * Harry scoots backwards slightly. Stretches out a leg and finds Draco’s. Angles himself towards Draco.
  * Draco stops taking his hand away after pointing at the page, resting it gently in the dip of Harry’s stomach
  * Harry shivers
  * Draco’s arm grows tired of supporting his head, so he puts it down on Harry’s pillow, close enough to catch the smell of Harry’s hair.
  * Tentatively, Harry’s hand finds Draco’s
  * Draco jumps but then squeezes as Harry goes to drop his hand
  * Legs tangle
  * Harry’s back presses against Draco’s chest
  * Breaths catch as arms squeeze
  * Heads rest on one another
  * Eyes close
  * The book lies forgotten




	2. Chapter 2

  * Harry falls asleep
  * Draco falls into the closest thing to peace he’s felt in years
  * For hours they stay, entwined, breathing softly, deeply. Even asleep, Harry drowns in Draco’s scent, his warmth, his presence, and both revel in the unspeakable comfort of knowing they aren’t alone anymore
  * But when night starts to fall and dinnertime beckons, Draco leaves, closing the door quietly as he closes off that part of his soul. He’s sure it won’t happen again. Can’t happen again.
  * When Harry wanders into the Great Hall later, feeling more alive than he has in months, Draco adamantly avoids meeting his eyes as heat rushes to his face. 
  * And initially, Harry drops his gaze, stomach fuzzy and swooping oddly at their weird afternoon, honestly a little relieved that Draco wants some space. 
  * But when Draco starts delaying returning to the room, evading him, Harry can’t keep his eyes off him; can’t fight the longing that aches in his chest.
  * A week passes. Painful reality resumes, forcing Harry to spend more and more time in the room reading, and the more he’s there, the more time Draco spends in the library. 
  * Whenever he comes back, collapsing into bed last thing at night or stopping briefly to gather different books, there’s silence between them. Neither have spoken since that night. Too hurt. Too wounded. Too busy trying to breathe. Too scared to actually acknowledge the other person exists.
  * Until Draco wakes up gasping. 
  * He’s been running; running from his thoughts, running from his desires, running from his deepest darkest fears, and surviving with Dreamless Sleep to get him through. 
  * But it has to end sometime.
  * And when he finally takes a well-overdue break from the potion, it hits _hard_. 
  * He shakes. 
  * Not once. Not a little. But violently, like a crup caught in a storm, barely able to breathe, mouth parched and flooded all at once as his entire chest, heart, body screams in pain.
  * Crushed from all sides, utterly desperate, Draco does the only thing he can.
  * Blindly, he stumbles out of bed, sobbing, whimpering, and grabs at Harry’s bed, crawling in before Harry can wake up—or worse—push him away.
  * Usually, Harry sleeps with his back to Draco, curled in a ball, but somehow, for once, he’s on his back.
  * Instantly Draco curls close, clinging to Harry’s chest like a limpet, still crying and shaking uncontrollably. 
  * A confused grunt makes him flinch and whimper. A sleep-hoarse ‘Draco?’ sends his fingers twisting into Harry’s t-shirt further. The sensation of Harry moving begs him to run away before he can be pushed, slicing his soul to ribbons. 
  * But milliseconds later, arms encircle him, shushings soothe him, and legs tangle with his once more. Trapping him. Protecting him.
  * He cries harder.
  * Fingers play with his hair as Harry squeezes, still murmuring soft reassurances in his ear, telling him it’s okay, let it out, he’s safe. 
  * Draco doesn’t have a choice but to do as he says, shivering in Harry’s embrace. 
  * When Harry readjusts the covers around them, covering him more fully, wrapping him up, he’s never felt so loved.
  * Slowly, with many, many hiccups and sudden new bursts of tears, Draco quietens, nose still buried in the now very wet t-shirt, hands still clinging to Harry, though not quite so desperately any more. 
  * Still, Harry strokes his hair. Squeezes. Nuzzles gently. And though shame and embarrassment creep in, sitting heavily in Draco’s stomach, he can’t find it in him to move.
  * “You okay?” Harry asks softly after a while. 
  * Draco nods, once. Stubbornly hides from the gnawing urge to pull back. 
  * “Wanna talk about it?” Harry offers. 
  * Draco shakes his head without hesitation.
  * “Thank god,” he huffs a laugh. Draco forces his eyes closed again, blocking out the world.
  * “You should drink something,” Harry murmurs. 
  * Again, Draco shakes his head, clinging to the warmth, the safety, the comfort of Harry’s arms, but slowly, Harry moves to disentangle himself.
  * And Draco’s heart shatters. 
  * Still, he forces himself to breathe, and, holding his head high, he stands before Harry can even prop himself up on his elbow, moving robotically to the bathroom. 
  * He won’t show Harry that each second is excruciating; that everything’s too cold. Too lonely. That he’s weak.
  * He drinks from the tap, avoiding his reflection. He relieves himself. Spends the full recommended 20 seconds washing his hands and double that drying them. And when he can’t delay it anymore, he returns to their room, carefully trying to keep his face neutral.
  * Shame and rejection flooding through his every fibre, without hesitation, he turns towards his bed, adamantly avoiding Harry once more. 
  * The lump forms in his throat again.
  * He draws back his covers automatically.
  * “What are you doing?”
  * He stops but can do no more. Can’t turn to meet Harry’s eyes. Can’t see past the tears. Can’t speak. 
  * He shrugs and gestures vaguely.
  * Less than a second later, a hand grabs him.
  * “Don’t be ridiculous, Draco.”
  * His breath hitches.
  * Harry pulls, strong, firm, and willingly he collides with Harry’s chest again, his skin on fire as relief, joy, and disbelief whirl through him. As he shivers, relishing the warmth, the solidity, the safety, Harry lays down, gently pulling Draco with him. Instinctively, Draco curls into his side once more as fresh, silent tears leak unbidden into Harry’s clean t-shirt.
  * He can't stop the half-sob of relief and thanks escaping when Harry’s hands find his hair again. 
  * “Go to sleep,” Harry murmurs, setting Draco’s heart stuttering as he nuzzles him close. “And don’t even think about sleeping on your own again, you idiot.”
  * So full of emotions and shuddering breaths, Draco’s sure sleep won’t come. Sure he’ll lie awake as Harry snores, exhausted but safe. Yet with barely one more squeeze, his eyes droop, his mind clouds, and fuzzy warmth creeps over him. 
  * As something that feels suspiciously like lips press to his temple, Draco surrenders to the darkness, fingers still entwined in Harry’s top.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! And come and find me on Tumblr if you want :) @april-thelightfury115 :D

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this, thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on Tumblr, @april-thelightfury115 <3


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